Chapter 6 #2
I don’t miss that he’s shielding me from curious onlookers’ stares with his large, muscular body.
Is he someone important in Alexandria? Why were those women so focused on Bobby and wanting their time with him?
There are other good-looking men here, though in my opinion, they’re not as sexy as the one sitting with me, with his fingers stroking the curve of my cheek.
“I bet you tell every woman who crosses your path that they’re gorgeous.” I settle my forehead on his and gaze into his eyes. The eyes are the window to the soul for a reason.
“Gorgeous is reserved for goddesses.” He brings my knuckles to his lips.
I sputter laughter. “I am not goddess gorgeous.”
“GAFG?”
“What?” My eyes must be wide.
He laughs. “Gorgeous as fuck goddess?”
“Or we can compromise, and I’m princess gorgeous?”
“You got it, babe.”
“Oh, no, I am not a man’s babe.”
“Baby, sweetheart?”
“You gotta come up with something more original.” If we see one another again.
It’s a big if. This sexy, tatted sex on legs is the opposite of the kind of guy Ty wants to see me with when I’m eighty years old.
Guys are off-limits until I graduate. It’s Ty’s last rule, which is why Gage sticks close by me, among other reasons.
“You’re right. You’re different from the women I talk to.”
“How so?” Invisible fingers grip my insides and twist. Why am I jealous that he talks to other women? He’s not my guy, and if I have my way, he will never be more than a stranger who happens to make me feel less lonely in a crowd.
“You haven’t asked in the first ten minutes of us meeting what I do for work, what I drive, or how deep my pockets are.”
“Women seriously ask how loaded you are?” Rude.
He nods.
“I’m sorry.” I pop another marinara-soaked cheese stick in my mouth and quench my thirst from all this talking with a large gulp of water before I speak. “So, Bobby, what kind of car do you drive? What line of work are you in? How deep are your pockets?”
He belts out laughter, and I smile, enjoying the deep, throaty sound straight from his core.
“Can I answer the first question and skip the others?”
I bow my head and sweep out my arm. “Be my guest.”
He laughs again. I find myself staring at his mouth and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes.
“I drive whatever vehicle suits my needs.”
“The better question would be, how many cars do you own?” I do the “gimme, gimme” with my fingers. He shakes his head.
“Is it insane to admit I own twelve?”
I would’ve fallen off my seat had I been sitting in a chair instead of in the middle of the bench seat.
I gather myself and sit with my hands clasped on the table.
I won’t let the number have me thinking he’s filthy rich.
Carlos owned half that many, and most were run-down.
He called his collection of non-running cars his project cars.
“Insanity is in the eye of the beholder,” I say. “And you are most certainly not insane. My room is full of plushies to the point you can’t step inside. Insanity, right?”
He chuckles. “Nah. That’s an obsession. Or you just like plushies.” He shrugs.
“I just like them,” I admit. “They’re cute and bring me happiness.” Geez, I sound like a teenager.
He reaches out and strokes his finger across my knuckles. “Happiness is important, and we should get it when and where we can.”
He’s right. I took my time with Carlos for granted, believing we would grow old together. “Of the cars, which one is your favorite? What’s your daily?”
“Daily?”
“My friend used that term a lot. I never used to use it until he started referring to his commuting car as his daily.”
“He’s a car guy?”
“Was a car guy,” I clarify, attempting to keep my voice steady, when inside I shed silent tears for the cars that were sold off after Carlos’s death, before I could scrape together the money to buy them.
“An old boyfriend?”
“My best friend. He’s gone.”
Thank goodness Bobby understood without me having to say the dreaded D word. I detest that word. There’s a finality to it. Carlos is “gone” but not forgotten, not by me.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Ever.”
“Thank you,” I say in a soft voice. “So, what’s your daily? Your favorite?” I repeat my questions—anything to take away the melancholy wafting around me.
“I don’t have a daily or a favorite. Each vehicle serves a purpose, and that purpose drives my choices.”
“No pun intended, right?”
He laughs. “Correct.”
“Your answer has me curious. Twelve cars. Twelve purposes. You have a lot on your plate. Which brings us back to one of the questions you asked to skip. What do you do for a living to have so much purpose in your life?”
He regards me for a few heartbeats before he answers. “I run a business.”
“That must be difficult.” I fold my cloth napkin into the shape of a swan. “My boss is a small business owner. Some days, he loves working for himself. Other days, he would rather someone else make the tough calls.”
“I hear him.” He takes the napkin and unravels it.
“Hey.” I snag back the napkin.
“Do you keep in contact with your dad?”
I shrug. “He calls a few times a month. I never know when, though. He likes to surprise me. Says surprises keep me on my toes.” I toy with the napkin.
“You don’t like surprises.”
A statement rather than a question.
“Who does?” I shape the napkin into a heart and slide it over to Bobby.
He smirks. “What a surprise. Thank you.”
“You like it?”
“Surprises, yes. Talent with a napkin, absolutely.”
I laugh.
“What do you and your dad talk about?” He unravels the heart and tosses the napkin back. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to share.”
“Normal stuff. The weather. What they’re serving in federal prison. School. Whether or not I’m seeing someone.”
“Are you?”
“Am I what?” I say innocently.
“Seeing anyone.”
“No.”
“Surprising.”
“How so?” I make a rose and drop it in the middle of the table.
“You’re funny, confident, princess gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” I beam. “Except I have a shadow, remember?”
“He won’t let you date?”
“My brother won’t,” I clarify. “Not until after graduation. I’ll be the first in my family to graduate with a college degree, and he doesn’t want any cocky dude fucking with my brain just to wet his dick.
Again, his words. The only way he will is if the guy meets him, his boyfriend, and their friend group, and there’s a unanimous vote. ”
“How many are we speaking of?”
“Fifteen.”
“Fuck.”
“Yep. It’s the reason I’ll never have a boyfriend.” Sighing, I unravel the rose. “You?”
“No girlfriend.”
“Commitment issues?”
“Nah. Workaholic.”
“So, you dance and flirt with random women at nightclubs during your free time? Order whatever she wants? Offer her a place to stay so she doesn’t have to drive two hours home?”
“You’re the first, Ever.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
“And I find your bluntness refreshing.” He palms my face and skates his thumb over my eyebrow. “How come next week will be your last at school?”
Not mine, but Gwen’s. God, she’s going to kill me if she ever finds out. Which means, don’t tell. Or I can fess up and tell Bobby it’s one of my friends who will get kicked out if she doesn’t pay up.
Except Gwen would say it’s a Gwen problem and not mine or Bobby’s. I turn from Bobby’s touch. My shoulders droop. I take deep breaths in and out. This world isn’t fair.